I’m back!
My Christmas break from blogging stretched out a little and somewhere along the way January went by without any posts. This is completely due to my own laziness and so I’ll quickly move onto the topic at hand and speak of this blog gap no more.
A couple of Saturdays back, I was feeling all exercise inspired after having just started up rowing again (after a small break of about 17 years – looks like stretching out breaks is a bit of a habit!) This, combined with my Christmas list of things to do, inspired me to go for a run and get some training in for the “Run the full Bays Run” item on my to-do list. It turns out a sunny day and a Kasabian soundtrack are a dangerous combination and somehow I ended up running 12km rather than the 8km or so that I’d planned. I should point out that this 12km is not the Olympia-n effort referred to in the title – I’m getting to that (slowly).
The end result of so such exercise on a sunny day was that I turned up back at home exhausted and in dire need of a food and sugar hit. After covering off the food in a random Petersham cafe, I suggested to Adrian that the best sugar hit had to be a milkshake and the best place to get a milkshake nearby had to be the Olympia Milk Bar, even if it was just for the novelty value of saying we’d been there (and survived!)
The mysterious Olympia
I’d first spotted the Olympia Milk Bar on a bus trip home from town (it turns out my bus trips along Parramatta Road provide plenty of inspiration for places to visit). Not being a local, I knew nothing about it and mainly noticed it for the first time due to the fact that it clearly called itself a “Milk Bar”. I’d always referred to corner store / kwik-e-mart type places as milk bars and it seemed that outside of Melbourne everyone else (including Adrian) thought I was a bit loopy for this. Seeing the Olympia sign made me feel a little vindicated, and a little like I’d fit in really well at an old folks home with my old school slang.
A “Milk Bar” – photographic evidence!
Anyway, apart from the name, I also quite liked the authentic retro-ness (rather than trendy retro) of the place and the slightly tattered run-down look – it made me want to give it a hug or whatever the building equivalent would be. Then I noticed that it actually had the door open and tables inside, however as there weren’t any lights on or people either behind the counter or at the tables, it all looked very mysterious. This air of mystery piqued my curiosity and, while travelling on the bus each day, I’d occasionally pick up snippets of conversation mentioning the Olympia in hushed tones. My curiosity eventually got the better of me and it was off to visit good old Google.
The Google search quickly turned up all kinds of urban legends about this place and the elderly Greek man that owns and runs it. One of the more likely tales is that the current owner promised his late brother never to change the look or menu of the milk bar that they once ran together. Some of the crazier stories give the owner not so flattering nicknames such as Dr Death or Dracula and there are plenty of comments from people too scared to go inside or from those that made it inside but then said or did the wrong thing and got ordered off the premises (images of the Soup Nazi promptly came into my head). However, those that managed to not get kicked out did rave about the milkshakes.
After reading these stories, all I wanted to do was find an excuse to go and so with a sugar hit needed and an excuse found, Adrian and I finally went inside. The lights were turned off, as seems to be standard, and behind the long wooden counter that curves around the back and side of the shop are shelves full of chocolate boxes – most of which are empty. I didn’t notice the owner tucked up in the back corner, but he wandered over, took our chocolate milkshake order, rang up the $3 each one cost on the oldest, heaviest cash register I’ve ever seen and then wandered back to his corner to sit and read.
We headed to one of the formica tables to drink our old school milkshakes (milk and syrup only) and soak in the rest of the place – the assorted old posters, chocolate boxes, neon signs and art deco floors and ceiling. Everything was a bit rundown and dusty, but somehow that just made it more interesting, although a little bittersweet. We took just the one photo inside, as the owner is known for not being too keen on publicity.
Milkshakes and empty chocolate boxes
However, while writing this I did find a great photo from the ABC Radio National website that shows-off the art deco flooring, gives a hint of what inside would look liked with the lights on and a slight polish up (they have a few other cool shots here):
A shot from the only person officially allowed to take photos inside – Mark Byrnes
After surviving our visit, I think both Adrian and I have a little soft spot for this place and the facebook fanpage suggests a few others do too. So it’s definitely a time-warp worth checking out while it’s still there. Oh and the milkshakes were pretty good too!
sydnerdia 